Butterfly Wings
by IcarusFalling23
Summary: Hurled back into the past, Harry must find a way to keep things happening as they should. But as he lives in the past, it's tempting to fix everything that went wrong in his future... Pairing undecided
1. Chapter 1

Butterfly Wings

Harry sat quietly in his room, pretending not to exist. After all, it was one of Vernon's rules: '_Pretend not to exist, and you might get some food today, Boy!' _Vernon had a lot of rules, and all of them had to be obeyed, or Harry would suffer dire consequences. Not eating wasn't so bad: it was much worse when he had to do his chores with a concussion, or a broken arm or leg. At least it only lasted for a few months: then he would be back at school, and safe from his Uncle and his Uncle's unusual discipline. As Harry sat there quietly, he looked out his window. Outside, Mrs. Figg was boarding the Knight Bus, and it hurdled around the corner with a bang. It seemed to make everything in his room shake, but Harry knew that his family would never notice it. Not only were they muggles, and therefore unable to see the Knight Bus, but they would have to enter his room first to see everything move—and that was not something that would happen any time soon. The Freak was to be avoided, and only to be interacted with when it was time for chores, punishment, or the meager amount of food he received every few days.

Harry sighed again heavily. His trunk and textbooks were all locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and Hedwig was staying with Ron's family at the Burrow. He had no way of communicating, and he would have to delay his homework until the last week of summer, when he went to stay with the Weasleys. Downstairs, Harry could hear his Uncle's dinnerparty feasting on the gourmet food he had made earlier that day. After writing out exact instructions for his Aunt on how long to reheat the food, she would put on an apron over her cocktail dress, and make it seem as though she had made all the food. No one would ever know that there was another person living with the Dursleys, and they worked very hard to keep it that way. If no one knew about him, then they wouldn't have to answer any questions about his education or the scrawny little boy that worked in their garden. Everyone thought that scrawny little boy was a worker from some agency, or the son of the maid that cleaned their house so immaculately. No one would ever know that the maid, and the gardener, the plumber, the painter, the mechanic, and the handyman were all the same person. No one would ever know about Harry. At least, not until it was August and time for him to go back to school…

As he heard the party going on, Harry figured it would be pretty easy to sneak out of the house for a few hours. Down the hallway, quietly down a flight of stairs, around a corner, through another hallway to the kitchen, and then through the back door. He would never be seen by the guests, and Vernon wouldn't be upstairs to check on him for several hours. This way, Harry could at least spend time in the park, or simply walk down the street. His mind was made up: he would sneak out tonight.

* * *

Harry crept down the stairs quietly, thankful for his small body for once: if the Dursleys fed him as much as themselves, the stairs would be creaking and making all sorts of sounds. Harry sniggered to himself behind his hand at the thought, and continued down silently. He made it down the stairs, the hallway, and he was now in the kitchen. The sounds of the guests were much closer now: only a glass door separated them from the kitchen. He opened the door quietly, and escaped into the night. He was free! Harry fought back the urge to laugh aloud, as he walked toward the front of the house. As he stepped into the street, Harry heard a terrible noise: the sound of the Knight Bus, returning to drop off Mrs. Figg. He started to run, trying to make it to the other side of the street in time. Dimly, he heard the bang and the scream of the tires as the driver started up the bus. The street was lit up around him as the bus barreled down on him.

He never stood a chance.

* * *

The Knight Bus hit the small boy head on. There was a bright flash of light, and Harry was knocked unconscious as he was thrown onto the sidewalk. Around him, Harry could hear people screaming and talking to eachother. Someone grabbed his shoulder and shook him, and Harry's eyes opened slowly.

"W-where am I?" Harry asked in a daze. He looked around, but all he could see were the people crowded around him.

"Diagon Ally, m'boy. You took quite a hit!" a man said. He helped Harry to his feet and dusted him off. Harry looked around in confusion: Diagon Ally looked very different…


	2. note

First and foremost, I am incredibly sorry for the long periods between chapters. **Stories will continue to be updated in the coming future.**

I was diagnosed with a serious medical problem a few months ago, and the medication I take now makes it very hard for me to attach myself to my stories the way that I used to. I had to have sensors hooked up to my head by a neurologist and they discovered that I had been having seizures almost constantly while I was sleeping, and nearly every 10 minutes when I was awake. No one had ever detected it before because I never displayed any outside symptoms beside headaches.

Now the medication that I take essentially makes the electrical connections in my brain run differently, and I'm not used to it yet, even after almost 4 months.

My brain is used to functioning in the most complicated way possible, due to massive amounts of scar tissue. Signals would be sent, get half way to a destination, then be stopped by scar tissue, and have to find an alternate route. The best way to explain my condition is to compare it to someone watching tv, and clicking through the channels rapidly, and not focusing on the picture. I can see what's changing, but I couldn't tell you what I was watching: if it was a sports program, a cooking show, etc. You could ask me what I was doing, and I wouldn't be able to tell you. I would have to look down, and reinterpret what I was doing. Now, with the medication, it forces my brain to slow down and focus on the picture. I'm still not watching the program, but my brain can now interpret what I'm seeing. The only way for me to solve the problem of my seizures is to undergo extensive brain surgery, which is not recommended for my age (18), the location of my scar tissue, or the amount of scar tissue I have (a lot).

I will be on medication for the rest of my life, because I can't have the surgery without a high level of risk. I thank you for your understanding. **All of my stories will continue to be updated when I have time.**


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